Tuesday, January 10, 2017

There are no words to fit it
The grounds are quiet, the only sound the crunch of boots on snow
In the middle of the bustling town is a place fenced in by white-tipped trees
Where all is peaceful, till one thinks of its horrid history

When the lie was rampant: ARBEIT MACHT FREI
When I was a kid I thought that the Holocaust was a long time ago
But I have come to realize that these things happened not long ago at all
During the lifetime of my grandparents
During the same century in which I was born
There are no words to fit it
That heavy feeling when you are walking through the rooms where the
paint is peeling and the decades echo back the tale of those who
suffered within the walls' confining spaces
I will never understand how such a thing could happen
But that's why we can never forget

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